Don't Fear the Dark


Hi all, and welcome to my first fanfiction, Don't Fear the Dark. Some warnings:

First - This is a Wrong-Boy-Who-Lived story. I know it's an over used cliché, but I'm a big fan of it and hope to bring some new plots to the table.

Second – This is a Dark Harry story. I know many people don't like a Dark Harry, so consider yourselves warned.

Third – As a dark story by its nature, this story has been rated M. It will likely include scenes of a violent nature.

Like (I assume) everyone else on this site, I do not own Harry Potter or anything else from J.K. Rowling's works. I do this purely to give back to the fanfiction community.

A/N End

For Dannie


"Not my boys, no! Please, take me instead! Take James! Anyone but the boys!" Lily Potter was screaming horse, trying to reason with the monster approaching her babies.

"Be silent, pitiful Mudblood" Voldemort hissed, flicking his wand. As she tried to scream, Lily was terrified to discover her tounge, writhing in a pool of blood on the floor before her. Lily tried to scream, but all that came out was a pathetic whimper.

She fainted.

"Much better" Voldemort told himself, before turning to his chosen victims for the night. A pair of identical brown cots lay before him, labelled "Harry" and "Shane" in an identical cursive script. Like the cots, their contents were identical at birth, save the body frame. Harry's leaner frame contrasted with Shane's thicker frame.

The true difference between the boys was how they carried themselves. Harry lay still, his eyes tracking the new person with caution. Shane, on the other hand, was squirming and crying, demanding the attention of the stranger.

Respecting the intelligence in Harry's eyes, Voldemort turned to Shane and uttered a single curse.

"Sectum Sempra".

As the child started squirming in his blood rather than his sheets, Voldemort turned to Harry. The boys eyes had changed. While they had previously been cautious and apprehensive, now they were almost gleeful. A strange thought crossed Voldemort's mind. What if, instead of killing him, Voldemort raised Harry to be a warrior for the dark? Voldemort dismissed the idea as soon as it came to him. While it had merits, the risk of Harry turning back to his parents or otherwise betraying him would be to great. That meant Voldemort would have to kill him. It was a shame, but siometimes that's how things need to be done.

"Avada Kedavra".

Voldemort watched the stream of green energy as time slowed. The stream made contact with Harry and was entirley absorbed by his body. Voldemort's eyes widened as he watched the boy's eyes turn change from hazel to emerald, the same shade as the death curse. Voldemort didn't have the time to gasp before a bolt of emerald lightning struck him in the forehead, accompanied by a wave of pure magic and an unearthly scream.

The Dark Lord was no more.